Little Secret
by PiscesChikk
Summary: A special case causes the burgeoning feelings between Reese and Carter to come to a head. Despite her reservations, Carter makes a bold move.
1. Chapter 1

A/N So after intending to take a fic break, of course I get pulled back in by a plot bunny, which was mostly more of a dare by Wolfmusic. Since I love to write angst and that's where my comfort zone is, she suggested I try my hand at a little fluff piece. So here's my offering. This is as angst free as I could get it, but you guys be the judge. Hope I made her proud.

Disclaimer = I own nothing you see here.

* * *

Carter's bare feet touched the carpet on her bedroom floor as she emerged from the en suite bathroom. Her towel was wrapped around her, and tiny beads of water left a sporadic trail on her shoulders and arms, remnants of the shower she'd just had. She felt refreshed, awake, and ready to start the day.

She removed the towel and ran it across her skin, removing the last bit of moisture that clung to her. Lotion applied and clothes on, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, putting her hair up in a neat ponytail. She turned her head sharply, hearing movement in the kitchen downstairs. Before she'd gone in the shower, Taylor had come to her room already dressed for school and said goodbye. She thought he'd be gone by now, but he must have decided to get something to eat first. As she put her brush on the dresser, she smelled bacon, eggs, and the distinct aroma of coffee; one that wasn't her brand. It was something different, richer, and she wondered where it came from. She shoved her feet into her bunny slippers and went downstairs to investigate.

"Taylor!" she called out, but he didn't answer.

She passed the staircase and went down the hallway to the kitchen, doing a double take when she saw just who it was. John looked up briefly from the frying pan and the eggs he was scrambling. His jacket was off, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows. The early morning sunlight framed his face beautifully, and the warm smile he offered her made him look incredibly handsome. He looked perfectly comfortable and at home in her kitchen, and for some reason she found that incredibly…sexy.

"Good morning, detective." His morning drawl did nothing to help the onslaught of feeling this little scene awakened in her. It'd been a while since a man had fixed her breakfast, but she quickly brushed aside the sentiment and looked around the kitchen, her gaze falling on the island and the two plates on top of it. There was a small pan of cinnamon rolls, in addition to a can of coffee that she knew she hadn't bought.

"Well good morning to you," she said.

"Before you even ask…Taylor let me in."

She resisted the urge to laugh at his reference to his penchant for appearing in her house unexpectedly and without using the front door. She was pretty much used to him 'breaking in' whenever he felt like a visit.

"So you've been here a while, and you've been quite busy I see."

"Not that busy," he said, plating the eggs next to some bacon, and he sprinkled some shredded cheese onto the eggs. She walked closer to get a better look and had to admit it all looked very savory.

"I'd say you were, my kitchen doesn't see this kind of action this time of the day. In the morning it's usually just coffee or toast if I have the time. And that smells good I must say."

She picked up the coffee container, reading the label, and he explained that he'd had a cup of it at a bakery just a few blocks from his place. He wanted to share it with her and bought her a bag.

"Well that was thoughtful of you," she said. He poured her a cup and she took it enjoying not only the aroma, but the rich blend as it slid over her tongue.

He stood in front of her, watching as she swallowed, a familiar smirk on his face. "Tell me you don't like that," he teased. "I dare you."

The combination of his proximity to her and the coffee was surprisingly intoxicating. Why was his simple act of making breakfast so damn disarming right now? She fought to regain some composure. "No, you were right. This is good." She followed him to the breakfast table and sat down opposite him. "So what do you want, John? Spill it."

The only time he ever tried to bribe her with food was when he wanted something. But as she bit into her bacon and the absolutely delicious cinnamon bun, she knew whatever he wanted had to be big. Still, he feigned innocence.

"Nothing, Carter. I swear."

"You don't want a sealed file? An expunged record?" She continued to tease him and he grinned, the flash of teeth was cute, adorable. She started to question what was in the coffee she was drinking. The aroma and taste had to take the blame for finding him adorable.

"Suppose I just wanted to spend some time with you?"

"Unh uh, I don't buy that at all."

"Why not, Carter? After all we've been through together, the things we've faced…I do think of you as a good friend. Is it really out of the ordinary for me to want some quiet time with you?"

Carter was slightly taken aback at his admission. It was true; they had been through a lot together, gotten each other out of more scrapes than she could count. But they'd never verbalized what they'd begun to mean to each other, and truthfully she unconsciously thought that maybe that was best. After all she was a cop, he was an ex CIA vigilante that worked on the opposite side of the law. Admitting that they were actually important to each other might not be the best choice for either of them.

"I guess not."

Did he really want a favour from her, or were his motives completely innocent as he'd claimed?

She smiled, relaxing in her chair. "You know, once a week Taylor and I try to do this, sit down and have breakfast together. We talk about what's going on with each other, and I tell him what I can about work. He tells me all the details he feels he can about school. Still haven't been able to crack that proverbial 'safe' open when it comes to girls. I wonder sometimes if he wishes his father was still in the picture so he could talk about stuff like that man to man."

He smiled at her and took a bite of his cinnamon roll. A tiny bit of cream cheese frosting was left on the corner of his mouth and she stared at it.

"What?" he asked, noticing the distracted look on her face. "What is it?"

"You've got a…" she raised a napkin to his mouth, gently wiping at it. "…a little bit of frosting right there. Got it." Her hand only briefly touched the napkin to his face, but he held onto it before she put it down.

"Thanks, Carter," he said. His voice was husky, entirely too deep for her liking, and the brief touch left her warm.

"You're welcome," she said, a blush staining her cheeks.

"I think it's great, your relationship with your son," he admitted quietly.

She often wondered about his family. Up to this point, she knew very little about them, his early childhood, or what he was like growing up. She knew where he was from, knew his last name, but the intricate, personal details of who John was, were still mostly elusive.

"My father was big on discipline, routine, and everything being in its perfect place. Took a lot of getting used to growing up. I had my share of rebellious moments trying to find my own way. Can't say I felt close to what you have with Taylor, but every Sunday when my father was on leave, he'd fire up the grill in the back yard, and we'd have hamburgers, hot dogs, the works. Fruit punch all around, races in the pool, and…we felt like a happy family."

Carter saw the look of retrospect on his face, the hint of nostalgia, and she gulped back a feeling of strong emotion. She didn't feel pity for him as he spoke about the memory. She didn't feel it was necessary. The story could have been sad, could have sparked regret, but for John it was a delightful recollection, and she was happy he chose to share it with her. It was another layer of his life that he was allowing her to see. And though it was but a small glimpse, she liked what she saw.

She squeezed his hand for a moment and smiled. He mentally shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the present and squeezed her hand in return.

"Now," he said, looking at her crossed legs under the table. "Let's talk about these bunny slippers."

* * *

3 Days Later

Carter sat at her desk doing paperwork, writing up reports, one of the most tedious and underappreciated parts of being a cop, she thought. Some people only recognized the collar, the perp you finally caught, but putting it all together at the end of a case and wrapping the whole thing up, was more time consuming than most people realized. Her hand was getting tired, and she felt slightly irritable. She wanted to go home.

"Do you know that before the 1870's it was illegal to use paper money in California?"

Fusco's voice caused her to look up, and she wondered at his question. "What?"

"Yeah, it was. Everybody used coins. Can you imagine having to carry around a change purse everywhere you went? I think it'd be pretty heavy."

"Depends on how rich or poor you were, I guess."

Fusco laughed and adjusted his glasses on his nose, still staring at his computer screen. "I guess you're right, Carter."

"What's with the American history lesson, Fusco?"

"Looking up some information on an elderly couple for Glasses and Wonder Boy. You were _unavailable_ for this one, I guess."

"You're a regular comedian today," she replied.

"It's okay. This one I don't mind so much. At least I learned a little something."

"What's it all about?" she asked, and walked over to his desk. He was staring at photos of an older African American couple; Alice and Robert Mitchell. Both retired, both in their sixties, both looked as harmless as ever. He was checking to see if either of them had had a criminal record. They'd come up with not so much as a DUI.

"These two are as clean as they come. But a few weeks ago they were redoing the deck in their back yard. A termite infestation finally forced them to dismantle it and have it repaired. The wife likes to sit in the back yard, soak up the sun, husband likes to garden believe it or not.

"I believe it. And it sounds cute."

"Yeah the two of them have been together for over thirty years, enjoying their golden years. Imagine them tearing up their deck and when the contractors pull up one of the posts, they stumble on about $9 million dollars worth of rare coins."

"Whoa."

"Exactly. Now they ended up on our mutual friends' radars. Trying to figure out who'd have something against these two."

"Well, with a jackpot of $9 million, there's bound to be family and friends coming out of the woodwork."

"You would think that, wouldn't you? But besides a nephew who's on the other side of world working abroad –who they rarely get to see I might add – there's really no other immediate family they could call on. They've only really got each other."

The look on Fusco's face was grim for a second. Only having your spouse and no one else to depend on could be romantic, Carter thought. But it also had the potential to be pretty sad. What happened when that spouse finally died? She imagined that the hurt and sense of loss that the person left behind would experience would be devastating.

It made her slightly uneasy for a while, and she couldn't shake it.

* * *

After a long day Carter sat at home, freshly showered, in front of the TV. Taylor was in his room, and though the sound of music coming from it was louder than she'd have liked, it was at an acceptable level. At least until she couldn't take it anymore and would be forced to tell him to turn it down or off.

She was watching a wedding show on TLC, and seeing the bride freak out over tiny details of the ceremony reminded her of her own wedding. It seemed like ages ago and she wondered if she'd ever end up like the Mitchells; growing old together with someone who'd take care of her, be everything that she needed. Thoughts of John came unbidden to her mind, and she remembered him cooking her breakfast, making fun of her bunny slippers. He said he found them cute, but the mischievous smile on his face said otherwise.

Did he think of her when he was at home? Did he wonder - like she did about him - what she did all day when he didn't see her? Of course he didn't, she scolded herself mentally. But there was a nagging feeling that maybe he did. A stroll into a café for breakfast, the taste of a new brew of coffee and all he thought about was sharing it with her, it meant _something_. John didn't make grand gestures, but whenever he did something, however small, it was meant to have impact. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, breakfast in her kitchen –among other little things he'd done lately – had hit her hard.

She reached for her cell phone on the table beside her and dialed his number. It rang just once before he picked it up.

"Hello detective." The word fell off his tongue more as a term of endearment than a title, but she fought the smile that easily came to her lips when he said it. "It's late."

"I know."

"Your shift at the precinct is long over. Thought you'd either be in bed by now or watching a special interest channel till you got sleepy."

His estimation at her routine couldn't be more accurate. "You know if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were spying on me."

"You mean like finding out your work shifts, your routines, figuring out what you do at home when you're alone? That kind of thing?"

"Yeah, that. Not to mention all those things are borderline stalker-ish."

"I beg to differ."

"Of course you would."

"In the CIA, all those things were simply done for research purposes. " The teasing in his voice was unmistakable. He was enjoying this banter.

"Except you're not in the CIA anymore."

"Once an agent, always an agent. Can't turn that off."

She could picture his casual shrug even on the phone, and she heard his footsteps on what sounded like tiled floors. She drew her legs underneath her and leaned into the cushioned back of the couch.

"So what trouble are you getting into tonight? I must admit I'm shocked I have yet to be called to a crime scene somewhere in the Bronx by now."

"Just finishing up some work at a law firm."

She rolled her eyes, shook her head and saw a mental picture of him breaking into a law firm, probably to retrieve some files or find dirt on a suspect in the case he was working.

"Can you please just try to leave things as you found them, John?"

"Oh I'm already out the front door. Why don't you meet me, Carter? I have one more stop to make for the evening."

"Meet you where?"

* * *

Carter spotted the Lincoln Town Car exactly where John had told her he'd be. He saw her in his rearview mirror and unlocked the doors so she could slide in next to him. They were across the street from the Mitchells' house; he wanted to check up on them for a while before they headed to bed. They were having a late dinner inside, and he wordlessly passed her some binoculars so she could see what he'd been doing before she got here. She was touched by the scene before her, the care with which Robert handled Alice. She witnessed their tender smiles, the way Alice rolled her eyes at something he said right before she dissolved into laughter. When their meal was done, he helped her from the table and they sat in front of the TV.

Beside her, Reese was busy adding sugar and creamer to a cup of coffee. She watched him tear the edges of the sugar packets, adding just the right amount before he reached for the creamer. He peeled back the small container, careful not to spill it, and when he was done he idly stirred it, mixing them all together. Carter thought of the brief process, two sugars, one creamer, and realized as he put the lid back on the cup that he was making it for her. He knew exactly how she took it without being told. She thanked him and raised it to her lips, handing him the binoculars.

Their eyes held above the rim of the cup, and the look of care on his face was startling. She found she was speechless for a while, and could do nothing but contemplate what was developing between them. She wondered if he sensed it, but knew that he had to. The question right now though, was, should they do something about it.

Two hours later, John was satisfied that the Mitchells were safe from any threat - for the night at least - so he took her home. The sidewalks were littered with parked cars and he eased into an available space at the end of the block. He switched the engine off and got out to walk her to her door.

"It's alright, John. The door's right there, and besides I'm armed."

"Just humor me, Joss. It's the gentleman thing to do," he protested, and continued walking alongside her anyway.

"And now you're a gentleman."

"A gentleman, a rogue, a personal chef, a friend…I can be whatever you need me to be, Carter."

They crossed the street together, and Carter felt her pulse racing, among other things. She was never the type to get excited over pretty words or sweet talk, but damn if his wasn't working tonight. She felt more aware of his presence than she'd ever felt before, and her attraction to him was strong, too strong. She fumbled in her pockets for her house keys, as they ascended the steps to her front door. He stood in the back of her on the bottom step while she slid the key into the lock. All she had to do was open the door, turn the knob, and say goodnight, but she heard him behind her coming up just one step higher.

She turned around slowly, and though she was on the top step, and he was one step lower, she was now at eye level with him. She stared at his mouth and the usual smirk was nowhere to be found. There was no grim line either, only what she felt was an invitation to come closer. She raised her hand, about to touch her fingers to his mouth, but she put it back down, clenching her hand into a fist. He sensed her hesitation, and she saw a fleeting glimpse of what looked like disappointment on his face before it disappeared without a trace.

Her mouth was dry, her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth and once again she felt at a loss for words. That was happening entirely too much lately. Every word she could think of saying was lost in her throat. Thankfully, he saved her from embarrassment.

"Thanks for meeting me, Joss. Goodnight."

* * *

The Next Day

Lawrence Reid had been a carpenter for ten years; he'd worked with Millers Construction for the last five of them. It hadn't been an easy time there, since Reid was a man who wasn't short on his words. They'd butted heads on a number of jobs, but David Miller had kept him around mostly since he was a distant cousin of his wife's and he was a damn good carpenter. but David was growing weary of Larry's attitude, and though he was good, there wasn't a shortage of carpenters in New York. Larry had heard rumors that he was about to be fired soon, and contrary to popular opinion, men gossiped just as much as women did. He was nervous. He couldn't afford to lose the job, not right now, and not when he was in it for $20,000 to a local loan shark with interest piling on since he hadn't met the payment deadline.

He was the one who'd made the initial discovery in the Mitchells' back yard, and the thought of the elderly couple having access to that amount of money needled him until he couldn't take it anymore. With $9 million dollars, he could tell David and his cousin to fuck off, he could pay off his debt, and he could retire on some remote island in the Caribbean. All he had to do was off the couple and take the coins. As far as he knew they had no family, and their only relative lived in Europe. They were still in the process of acquiring a lawyer to represent them in the sale; he had to take his chance _now_.

He'd made a mistake, and hadn't counted on John Reese being around to stop him. Carter watched as Fusco carted Reid away, an angry look on his face. The Mitchells were visibly shaken, and rightly so. Besides the discovery of the coins, this was the most excitement they'd ever experienced in their quiet life. Carter stood next to Reese as they both watched Finch hand the Mitchells a business card. He promised to have Stephen Ferrier give them a call, he was a numismatist who'd help them value, market and sell the coins. Robert Mitchell took the card warily, but when Finch shook his hand, his expression softened, and he took Alice back inside. It was early morning, and he needed to fix her breakfast.

Carter smiled as Robert put his arm around Alice and ushered her up their front steps. Reese nudged her shoulder, and she looked up at him to see an identical smile on his face too. Finch ambled over, glancing between them both. "Good work, Mr. Reese. You too, detective."

"Me? I can't take credit for anything. Fusco's the one who saved the day on this one."

"You helped a bit here and there," Reese said, looking down on her. "They gonna be okay?" he asked Finch.

"I think they will be. Stephen can be trusted, and after the sale, they want to take a short vacation together. It's been overdue, according to Alice. They might pay a visit to their nephew in London."

"She's a feisty one," Reese said.

"She does seem to be, yes. She kind of reminds me of someone," Finch said, looking pointedly in Carter's direction.

"What?" she asked, and Finch nervously shook his head.

"I think I need to go walk Bear," he answered. "See you back at the library Mr. Reese. At least…when we get another number, that is. Joss."

"Bye, Finch."

Carter watched him walk off, and thought that his comparison of her and Mrs. Mitchell couldn't have come at a more opportune time. This case for some reason kept reminding her of what she'd had with John. Whatever it was had become important, had become routine. It had become something that both of them needed. She'd been thinking about it all night, in fact just before John had called her and Fusco down here, she' thought about the fact that maybe she wanted more. It was crazy, their lives were crazy and their circumstances would never be normal or ideal, but she couldn't fight it any longer. She couldn't fight what she felt when she was around him, and she was just foolish enough to think that maybe they could both try.

As the Mitchells went inside, she could see John was loath to move. He stood still next to her and she wondered at his thoughts. "Feel good?"

"Yeah," he said. "Better than the last few cases for some reason." He seemed both happy and embarrassed about that admission.

"Sometimes it's the people that touch us, remind us of who we are deep inside, what we stand for."

They moved in step together and walked down the street to his car. "I wonder why they never had kids. Why didn't they start a family?"

"They tried…in the beginning. Alice had two miscarriages, and after that…the doctor said it wasn't safe to try anymore." He seemed heartbroken for them despite the rich life that they seemed to have had regardless.

"You know, something tells me that they're going to be fine. They have each other, and they seem happy with that."

He nodded in agreement as they got to his car, and he paused on the sidewalk beside her. It was now or never, she thought, and she couldn't understand just why she felt like such a chicken shit right now. They'd fought side by side together, fearlessly, she thought, and one simple thought, one question, was so difficult right now.

"Listen John…I'm just gonna come out and ask you something before I change my mind."

"What is it, Carter?"

Her face was hot and she felt really uncomfortable. He looked at her in a way that made her wonder if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I was just wondering…if you'd like to go out with me. This weekend. For dinner."

He looked surprised, she thought. He looked caught off guard, and he literally took a step backwards. She was a fool, she was an idiot, and now he would never let her live it down. What made her think that this was a good idea? Some breakfast in her kitchen, and a stupid cup of coffee in the front seat of his car on a stake out? She wanted to disappear, press the rewind button, do anything to erase her question.

He was smiling. Not a full on toothy grin, but his cheeks rounded, and he looked down. Maybe…

"You want to go out? On a date with me, Carter?"

"Forget it, I shouldn't have asked." She walked away, swallowing hard, wondering how in the world they'd work together after this. She felt his hand on her arm, and he was pulling her back.

"Wait, Carter," he said.

"No way. Not for you to make fun of me." She felt a little angry, stung at what she perceived as a snub.

"I'm _not_."

"You're not what?"

"I'm _not_ making fun of you." He hadn't let go of her arm, and he spun her round to face him. She looked up at him, finding a bit of hope in the tender tone of his voice.

"You're not?"

He shook his head. "I would never. I'd love to. Go out with you, I mean. Just tell me when."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N It's date night. Will these two survive it? LOL. Most of this chapter is told from Reese's POV, with Joss' POV at the end. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer = I don't own POI or its characters.

* * *

Reese looked at himself in the mirror and impatiently unbuttoned the shirt he'd put on for the evening. _The third shirt_. He felt like a kid, a pathetic teenage boy lucky enough to be going on a date with the prom queen. And he did feel lucky. He couldn't believe Joss had asked him to dinner. It'd been almost two weeks that she'd asked. She'd intended for their date to happen last Saturday, but their jobs, the numbers, and a new case of hers had prevented it. This weekend she was free, and thankfully there'd been no new numbers today. Tonight, it was finally happening.

He knew it'd taken a lot for her to ask. She'd struggled to find the words after they wrapped up the Mitchell case. He'd been mulling over his growing feelings and attachment he felt to her lately. She'd probably done the same. He hadn't been able to put a label on it, but he knew what he was feeling was more than friendship. He also knew that she'd never be interested in someone like him. He'd resigned himself to following her around, spending time with her at home when she'd let him, working with her on cases for the rest of his life. However long that would be. He had a sense of family around her and Taylor. He felt at ease, at home, and he'd come to need the way she made him feel. Now she'd been the one to take the first step, and even though she was embarrassed, he wouldn't let her think that she was alone in feeling the way she did.

He walked toward his closet, hung up the blue shirt, and reached for the standard white that he usually wore. He decided against it. It's how she always saw him; his normal attire wouldn't do tonight. He didn't want to be the _man in a suit_ to her this evening. He wanted to be just _John_. He pulled out a dark gray shirt, buttoned it up and tucked it into his pants before slipping a gunmetal toned jacket on over it. He studied himself in the mirror, pleased that his look was a departure from his usual, and left. Checking his watch as he slid into the Town Car downstairs, he saw that he had fifteen minutes to get to Carter's place before they had to get to the restaurant. They had reservations.

What she would wear? How she would smell? Would it be the light floral mist he was used to, or would she wear something else? He'd grown accustomed to her button down shirts, her bulky coats and work slacks. The few times he'd caught her casually at home, he'd seen the hint of her curves, her ample bottom and full breasts, and he'd had to forcefully curb his body's reaction to hers. The thought of how she looked tonight filled him with excited anticipation.

He parked across the street from her house, walked to the door and rang the bell. Her cry of "Just a minute," sounded as he waited for her to open up. As the seconds ticked on, he realized he was nervous. What if she changed her mind? What if when she opened the door, she was in her jeans and a t-shirt and said she'd made a mistake?

He didn't have time to contemplate any other imagined scenarios, the door swung open and what he saw took his breath away. Carter was stunning in blue, a rich cobalt fabric that clung to her waist and hips and accentuated her thighs. Her legs seemed to go on for days, the hemline of the dress stopping just above her knee. She tilted her head at his appreciative glance and he felt his throat go dry.

"Hi," she said, chuckling, and her smile lighting her face up.

"You look amazing," he said, finally.

"Thanks. You look pretty amazing yourself, John. Got me feeling like I'm getting picked up by my prom date."

"Should I leave and come back with a corsage?" he asked, smiling that they'd thought the exact same thing about their date tonight.

"Don't you dare. This whole date thing has the potential to be awkward enough as it is."

She was nervous, just as he was. He liked that, at least he wouldn't be anxious alone. He reached for her hand, taking it. He was happy when her fingers relaxed in his grip.

"Let's go."

* * *

John watched as Carter looked around the restaurant and narrowed her eyes. He could sense from her disappointed expression that this wasn't at all what she expected. A coworker had given her these reservations she'd said, compliments of the owner who owed her a favour. She and her fiancé hadn't been able to go and she didn't want them to go to waste. This was the restaurant's opening week, and _Che Dominique_ was supposed to be a hit. Reese begged to differ. The staff looked uptight, the other patrons seemed to look down their noses at everyone else, and the ambience did not inspire warmth or comfort. The music that was playing in the background surely was meant to put them all to sleep.

"Not what you were anticipating?" She looked up from her menu and laughed.

"No," she admitted. Both of them jumped at the abrupt and loud sound of a piano. An older, white haired gentleman plopped down on a bench and had begun to play. "Holy…"

Reese laughed, as a few people started to applaud.

"Who chose this place again?" he asked, looking over his own menu. He scanned their food choices, not seeing anything that enticed his appetite.

"La Blanca from work. You see anything you like yet?"

"Hmm…." His gaze ran over her face, down her neck, and rested for just a moment on the neckline of her dress. It offered him a delicious hint of her cleavage. "Well…"

"I meant on the menu, John," she said blushing, and pulled her menu wide open and close to her chest. "Everything just looks...so…"

"Bland?" he offered.

"Yes!" she said, and they laughed again. Even though this date was off to a somewhat shaky start, at least they were still able to laugh about it.

"Let's start with something simple. We'll order some wine," he suggested.

"Okay, John. You choose something." He loved the softness about her so far, so different from her normally guarded disposition. She twirled the edges of her hair, lightly touched the back of her neck, she was luring him in and she had no idea. Or did she?

"Alright, this is a huge responsibility by the way."

"How?"

"So much rests on this one decision. What if I make the wrong choice? You may not even let me choose your coffee next time."

She resonated with laughter, and it was contagious. What was it about her that made everything so light and easy? It was something…deep within her he couldn't describe.

As the waiter stood at the table waiting, he finally decided on a Sauvignon Blanc. It was a safe choice, and the crisp flavour could be paired with most anything they chose to order. They asked for a few more moments to decide on their meal and the waiter disappeared from the table. Her head tilted to the side, and her tongue flicked quickly over her bottom lip.

"You clean up nice," she said. "I like this colour on you. It brings out your eyes."

His chiseled cheeks sprung to life, a flash of white teeth showed.

"This old thing?" he asked as he ran a hand smoothly over the front of his shirt.

"Yeah, that old thing. The last time I saw you wear anything other than a white shirt was the second time we sat down across from each other."

She smiled and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table in front of her. There was a twinkle in her eye and he knew she was thinking about that day.

"You know what I'm talking about. Lyric Diner, that smile on your face, you talking about my cold coffee."

"I remember."

"You haven't worn that shirt since. You were trying to impress me. Admit it." Her fingers lightly touched his hand, igniting a spark inside him. He curled his fingers around hers when she started to pull her hand away.

"What if I was?" he asked.

"If you were, it worked," Carter admitted. "I was intrigued. Very intrigued."

Reese felt a shock of electricity as his fingers moved over hers. She was affected too, he could tell. Her lips parted slightly, and a light flush travelled over her skin.

"How long did you wait there watching me, John? It had to have been a while if you knew my coffee was getting cold."

"Hmm, long enough to be sure you didn't bring a task force with you to arrest me. Long enough to notice how beautiful and stunningly attractive you were. And long enough to compose myself so you wouldn't notice how affected I was by you."

"So you _were_ affected?"

Should he let her know how strongly he'd been attracted to her then? He hadn't planned on laying the flattery on this thick. He didn't want to give her any lines. He didn't want to come across as a randy teenager either who was only led by his hormones. While he was initially very drawn to her and still was, she was so much more than that.

"From the very beginning," he murmured.

She giggled a little at his confession and he remembered how confidently he sat down in front of her that day. He had a smirk on his face the entire time. Her soft voice, her sarcastic attempt at an apology for getting him shot, and her admission of wanting to know more, it was almost as if she had thrown out a fishing line to reel him in that morning. There'd been a push and pull between them from the first time they'd met.

"I wonder about that shirt every now and again," she said, her voice low.

It was little more than a whisper, but the look in her eyes along with her tone, was doing him in and they hadn't been here for a half hour yet.

"You do?"

She nodded as his eyebrows rose inquisitively.

"Where is it?"

"In the back of my closet somewhere," he shrugged. "I can probably dig it up if you insist. Although…"

He squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter, and she smiled nervously. His fingers moved a little higher, and he could feel her pulse quicken.

"…I think the lavender would look much better against your skin than mine."

_Shit_.

He hadn't meant to say it, not yet. He'd definitely thought about it before, but he didn't want to scare her off, and she looked slightly taken aback. He was about to apologize when the waiter returned with their wine. She pulled her hand away, and they both waited while he poured.

He stood watching them as they sampled it. If the wine was any indication of the quality of the meal, they were in for a treat. It was crisp and lean, and had an underlying fruity taste. They ordered their food and when it arrived, they dug in. Despite its beautiful presentation, the food left much to be desired. The portions were really small, and not that pleasing to the palette. Their dissatisfaction with the meal seemed to translate to the mood and conversation and it put an unwelcome damper on the evening.

Under the table Carter unconsciously brushed her foot against his. It was the spur he needed to reassure her that he was still enjoying her company. He didn't want her thinking that asking him out had been a mistake.

"Hey," he said, as she picked over her penne that was drenched in Alfredo sauce. "You're not having regrets are you?"

She shook her head, and the smile she managed made him think that the night could still be salvaged. "No. I'm sorry about tonight. This isn't how I imagined it would be at all."

"How did you imagine it?"

"Well, first you'd be blown away by my appearance…"

"I already was."

"Then the restaurant would be fun, and cozy, and we'd spend the first part of the date talking and getting to know each other better."

"Go on."

"Then the food would be so good, we'd be feeding each other from our plates, drinking each other's wine…"

"Well I mean…" he eyed the lone shrimp left on her plate. "How's the shrimp?"

"It's not that bad," she said, and looked down at it too. He shrugged, looking her squarely in the eye.

"Well…"

She caught it with her fork and fed it to him. She was right, it wasn't that bad, but coming from her fork made it all the more delicious. As he chewed, she bit her bottom lip, and another jolt went straight to his groin. He wondered how she'd intended for the evening to end.

"Well what do we have here?"

Their moment was interrupted by a familiar voice, one that he didn't want to hear right about now. Both of them turned as Zoe Morgan sauntered over to their table, a surprised look on her face. She glanced between them both having just witnessed their little moment. Joss straightened in her chair, while he spoke.

"Zoe."

"John, Detective," she said. "Having dinner I see. Looks a little too cozy for business, though. Detective I must say, you look stunning."

"Thank you," Carter replied, and Reese knew that she was remembering the moment Zoe had introduced herself as his wife. Carter had cast him a curious glance that night, but he'd never explained later as he'd promised. Reese stood up to shake her hand, and she embraced him instead.

"Are you cheating on your wife?" Her question was quiet, but just loud enough for Carter to hear, something he was sure Zoe intended. "Don't worry we'll talk about it later."

She didn't wait for a response, but walked away after telling them to enjoy the rest of the evening. Joss seemed annoyed, he doubted it was even possible. She pressed her lips together and nodded her head, watching Zoe leave. She looked at him over the rim of her glass as she emptied it.

"So how are things between you and your wife lately, John?" He sensed the irritation in her voice and knew he needed to tread carefully.

"Well-"

She cut him off abruptly. "Because from what I just witnessed, things aren't looking too bad."

"Joss, it's not what you think it is. Just let me explain."

"No, no explanation needed. I think that this whole date thing was just a big mistake."

"Joss…"

"I'm going to the ladies' room." She got up from the table and turned to her left, immediately colliding with a waiter. All the contents of his tray spilled onto her dress, various appetizers and a tumbler of scotch. Reese stood to his feet, trying to steady her. She hadn't fallen down, but she stumbled backwards. The waiter stammered out a string of apologies, while she blotted at the mess that started to seep into the dress and underneath the fabric.

"My dress!" she exclaimed. "Damn it."

* * *

Carter stood before the mirror in the bathroom with a scowl on her face. She lamented her dress, dabbing at the last bits of food that had spilled onto it. The stain would probably never be washed out. If she was home, she could've saved it, but there wasn't much she could do in this restaurant bathroom. She angrily threw the remaining napkins in the trash.

She felt frustrated. What had started off as hope, moved forward with her taking a chance of asking him out, now seemed like it was an error on her part. Where did it go wrong? Sure the restaurant wasn't how she pictured it, the food was another disappointment, Zoe Morgan even showed up to throw dirt on the fresh start they were trying to make. Zoe. John's _wife_. When she'd embraced John, she couldn't help the pang of jealousy that ran through her, or the fact that John seemed so at ease with her. They were too familiar. They'd probably slept together. More than once. The thought of her underneath John, in his arms, angered her to no end. But she didn't have a right to be jealous. This was just one date, and they were only just…friends. Except having a right or not…she still was in fact, jealous.

Did John have feelings for her? Was she important to him? Did they have some sort of connection? Too many questions ran through her mind about what they might mean to each other. Too many questions that she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to. One date and she'd dissolved into this crazy ball of absurdity. She wasn't used to this. Hadn't felt like this over a man, any man, in a long time.

She pressed her hands onto the top of the sink and hung her head, telling herself to just breathe. All the awkward moments aside, John looked like he was still enjoying just being with her, but right now she wondered if they should just quit while they were ahead. If they didn't take it further than this moment, going back to the way it was before was going to be extremely uncomfortable, for her at least. She'd never be able to look him in the face, and she'd forever be embarrassed for attempting to move beyond what they enjoyed as just friends.

She pulled her compact out of her bag and lightly dusted powder on her face, some blush on her cheeks. After freshening up her lipstick, she felt a little better, that is before she gazed down at her dress again. She needed to go home and change. She turned her head, hearing a light knock on the door.

"Joss?" It was John. She hadn't realized how long she'd been gone.

"I'll be right out," she answered, running her fingers through her curls. She sighed, washed her hands, put on some lotion and walked out the door. He stood outside, almost like a sentry and she wondered how long he'd been there.

"Are you okay?" He looked so sincere, so apologetic, she wished she could say yes. She shook her head as they headed back out front.

"No, I'm not."

He put his hand under her elbow and ushered her outside. He gave the valet their ticket and they both waited on the curb.

"I took care of the tab."

"You didn't have to. It was complimentary."

"I know. But I wanted to. It was the least I could do."

He turned to face her and touched her face softly. "I'm sorry, John. I just…I just wish things could've gone differently tonight."

"Well, the night's not over yet. Let me make it up to you." He looked at her pleadingly, and she felt like she didn't want to turn him down. But she was a mess, literally, and needed to get home.

"My dress…"

"I can fix it. Just let me."

"How?"

"Just…come over to my place. I'll take care of the dress, fix you something to eat. We deserve a do over."

He smiled nervously, and his hand slipped from her face to her neck. She felt his other hand near hers, and he linked their fingers together. For the second time this evening she felt intoxicated by him. Earlier when he'd held her hands, traced his fingers on top of it, she felt heat pooling between her legs. When he mentioned how his shirt would look on her, she was taken aback at how amenable she was to the idea. There was nothing she wanted more. Her heart was racing again, he was bending his head, and his mouth was so close to hers right now she could feel the light caress of his breath. She raised her lips for his kiss, just as the valet got back with their car.

"Ugh…." she groaned. He swore softly, and pulled her close to quickly press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Joss, please?" He was asking again, and though the valet had handed him the keys, he hadn't let her hand go, not even after he pulled a crisp bill from his pocket and handed it to the young kid. He wasn't getting in the car until he had an answer. The determined streak he was showing made her tingle inside.

"Okay," she agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Here's the final chapter. And of course there's angst in it, but hopefully the fluff included compensates overall. Hope you enjoy. Wolfmusic scream when you see your shout out, girl. LOL Enjoy!

Disclaimer ~ I own nothing you see here.

* * *

Reese looked at Carter out of the corner of his eye. She was quiet on the seat beside him as he turned a corner. They'd be at his building in less than ten minutes. Somewhere she had never been. He felt nervous, a little anxious. Still he felt excitement coursing through his veins. He wanted to share yet another part of himself with her. What better way to do it than to take her back to the place where he lived? What better way to start their much needed do over?

He knew he'd fucked up by not putting an end to Zoe's territorial banter in front of Joss. The evening seemed to be getting back on track only to be derailed again right after she left. Despite the conclusions he knew Joss had drawn after the little scene, she'd softened towards him while they waited for the valet. He thought of the kiss he hadn't had a chance to take. When he asked her to come home with him, she could've said no. She could've demanded he take her home, but here she was sitting next to him. He reached out and took her hand, locking their fingers together. She turned her head as he kissed the back of her hand and then held it on his thigh. He didn't say anything, neither did she, but he didn't miss the smile on her lips or the touch of her thumb as she ran it over his.

* * *

_Apartment 5A._ Carter walked into the loft after Reese opened the front door and said '_Wow'. _She stood rooted to the spot and looked around the large open space. A few things caught her eye. The staircase to her right ascended to what looked like an indoor tree house. A huge sprawling bed was to her left, perfectly made with sheets and a blanket folded on top. The far side of the loft was furnished with black leather furniture, a coffee table, and a mounted flat screen TV. Almost ceiling high windows and then a door that she assumed led to the kitchen - the place was most definitely a bachelor pad. And by the looks of it, these digs were pricey.

"Don't just stand there," John said. "Come in." He reached for her hand again, taking her around to show her his walk-in closet, the small dining area, and then onto the kitchen. It boasted all stainless steel appliances, a large stove and oven, and an island. The countertop was stocked with gadgets, canisters, and every kitchen accessory she could think of. She was impressed as he took her around, looking at her nervously like a young child showing off a new toy. She realized that he was in fact waiting for her opinion, her seal of approval. She smiled when they stood near one of the windows while he showed her the view of the park below them.

"It's beautiful, John." She looked around again, mentally dismissing the nagging question of whether or not Zoe Morgan had ever been there.

"Thanks. It's not quite the home that you and Taylor have, but…"

"It's perfect, and it's you," she said, looking at him. "It may not have started out that way, but…I think it's grown on you. Now, about this dress…"

"I have just the thing to fix it. But you'll need to change into something more…comfortable."

"If you're about to tell me you have women's clothes here, I don't think Zoe Morgan and I are the same size."

She couldn't help herself, and he laughed nervously. He raised his eyebrows while she looked at him straight faced.

"No, I don't believe you are." He looked at her from head to toe, letting his gaze linger for a while before his eyes met hers again. "Don't think you share the same tastes either - in clothes anyway."

"Hmph."

"I have something for you to put on." He walked away, heading to the closet and she followed. Standing in front of a row of pull-out drawers he opened the bottom one, pulling out the lavender shirt they'd talked about earlier. He handed it to her and she couldn't help smiling.

"You did promise to wear it," he said.

"Did I? Or did you just say that you thought this colour suited me?"

"I could've sworn you agreed to put it on." He looked at her with a sly grin on his face.

"You just want me out of this dress. Admit it."

The air was suddenly crackling between them. The push pull between them was so palpable she could feel it. She wanted to touch him; she wanted to feel the kiss that the valet interrupted. With him standing this close and only his folded shirt between them, nothing was stopping them now. She moved closer, slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him toward her. She captured his top lip softly between hers, sucked on it gently. She heard him inhale, a surprised breath, a relieved one. He opened his mouth above hers and she slowly slipped her tongue inside, teasing his quickly, tenderly. She felt his hand at the small of her back, his fingers just above her butt and he moved just an inch closer.

_Not yet_, she thought. Not quite yet. Not in this closet. Not even when his body so close to hers felt this good. She pried her lips from his, her breath momentarily taken away by that soft, yet passionate moment. She swallowed, feeling his thumb brush against her nape.

"Where's your bathroom?" she whispered.

It took him a while to respond. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she could feel the flutter of his eyelashes on her face. They were both tipsy off each other, not knowing it'd be this good. Before they got full on drunk, they both needed to sober up a bit.

"John, where's your bathroom?" she repeated.

"To your left," he answered hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "To your left."

He finally let her go, stepped away to give her some room and she nodded, turning to walk away.

"Wait," he said, and when she spun round he handed her an unopened pack of boxer briefs. "They're the only bottoms I have that might fit you."

She giggled at him before scampering towards the bathroom, her heels sounding on the wood floors.

* * *

He'd been right, Reese thought. The lavender _did_ suit her skin tone better. She sauntered into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and the top buttons left undone on the shirt. She'd forgone the underwear he'd given her, but she insisted on keeping her heels on. He had no complaints however, and made an exaggerated show of staring at her legs, and the hint of her thighs that were slightly covered by the oversized shirt. She pointed her finger at him as he twisted to the side taking in the sight of her.

"Don't say a word," she warned as she walked up to him, and he wordlessly handed her a glass of white wine.

"My lips are sealed," he promised, watching her taste it.

"Hmm," she said, nodding her approval. "What are you fixing?"

She glanced over the pot of jumbo shrimp that he was rapidly bringing to a boil over high heat. She watched him drain them, run them under cold water and then cut them up in chunks. "Something light. Sandwiches. Shrimp salad sandwiches."

"Special recipe?"

"Special recipe for a special lady." He picked up a piece of shrimp, raised it to her lips and fed it to her.

"You really are laying it on thick."

"I thought about holding back, taking it slow. Didn't want to scare you off, but I changed my mind. Just let me know if things get a little too hot for you to handle."

"You know John, after all we've been through, I think I can pretty much take anything you can dish out."

She wasn't backing down, not even a little bit, and he liked it. Her teasing was subtle, playful, her voice... so sultry. His body was reacting to her so strongly he could barely contain it.

"Do you need some help with that?" she asked.

"I'm good, but you can go put some music on."

"Background music coming up."

He went about his business of chopping up celery, tomatoes, lettuce, and green onions. Afterwards he threw everything into a bowl including the shrimp. He combined them all together, added mayonnaise and chives, and salt and pepper to taste. He left the lettuce and tomato to dress the bread. He pulled a cob sandwich loaf from his bread keeper and had split it open when he realized he had yet to hear any music. He walked out of the kitchen and saw Carter leafing through his CD collection, a puzzled look on her face.

"What happened to the music?" he asked, and she turned her head.

"Everything's old, John. And it's _Motown old_."

"It's the best music out there," he said, walking toward her.

"New Edition? Jackson 5?"

He rolled his eyes, realizing that she was seriously challenging his opinion of her being the perfect woman. "You better make a choice or I will," he warned. It was her time to roll her eyes and she popped in a CD. The Jackson 5's _ABC_ filled the room, and he headed back to the kitchen bobbing his head.

"Good choice," he yelled over the music and started stuffing the loaf. He cut it into four mini sandwiches and plated them before washing his hands.

"That sandwich better be good enough to make up for this music you're making me listen to. This do over is off to a rocky start," she said as he finally emerged from the kitchen, plate in one hand and the opened bottle of white wine in the other.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She downed the remnants of her glass and looked at him defiantly.

"Take it back," he said, advancing on her, and rested the plate and bottle on the coffee table. She backed away from him, grinning as he took her empty wine glass from her. "Take it back, Joss."

"Or what? What you gonna do, John?"

"Take it back," he said again.

Her tongue flicked out, gliding across her mouth. He was sure she hadn't intended it to be a seductive gesture, but that's exactly what it ended up being. She was in trouble and didn't even know it. More evenings, days, moments, spent like this, and he'd never let her go. She kept moving further and further away, grinning while she did, but his strides were long and soon she was in his arms, and he caught a whiff of her perfume.

_Intoxicating_, he thought as he gripped her and spun her round till her back was to his chest. The music was quick, upbeat, but he swayed slowly with her.

"You don't like my music?" he said, with his head bent close to her ear.

"Let's just say I expected something a little different." She turned her head to answer him, and her lips were so temptingly close to his. He twirled her around, linking their fingers, the two of them still moving to their own beat.

"Ah, I see. You didn't think I had any rhythm." He pulled her close, wrapping both their arms around his back.

"Well," she said a little breathlessly. He bent his head toward hers, giving her an Eskimo kiss. "You've definitely proven that you do have some moves of your own." He put her arms around his neck, just as '_I'll Be There'_ started to play, and slid his hands around her waist again.

"Still disappointed by the do over?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I think it's going just fine."

"Yes!" he said, pumping his fist in the air once. Her laughter filled his ears.

* * *

Carter stood at Reese's side in his laundry room in front of the washer and dryer. Her dress lay in a solution of various chemicals and water as their aroma filled the room. The smell was thick, pungent, but their odor seemed to have no effect on John at all. She eyed him skeptically, looking between him and the tray that the dress was immersed in.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

He nodded his head and simply said _'Trust me'_.

She looked back at the tray, fully expecting the fabric to start to discolour before their eyes, but after a few seconds, it still hadn't.

"When did you get to be such an expert in chemistry?"

"There are things that I've done with chemicals that I'll never tell you."

His hands at his side twitched a little, and his mouth became a grim line. He grew suddenly pensive as if referencing a bad memory, but he banished it just as quickly, not wanting to ruin the evening. According to him, the dress needed to soak for about fifteen minutes more, and they went back to the living room. The remnants of their meal and the empty wine bottle greeted them.

He sat on the sofa, putting his arm on the back, his legs spread wide. She sat right next to him and he pulled her close. They'd been at his place for over an hour now, and she felt comfortable, at home. She sensed that he was starting to relax too. She leaned into his side and put a hand on his thigh. He reached for it, covering her hand with his, and she marveled that in such a short time they'd gone from tentative meals in her kitchen to wanting the familiar comfort of each other's touch. It was nice, it felt good, but it was also risky, scary. Possibly unwise.

"So you never did get to finish telling me how you expected the date to go."

"No, I didn't. Your wife came along, remember?"

He stiffened beside her, this being the second time for the night that she'd brought up Zoe Morgan. He'd ignored it before, but she felt that by now they both knew it wasn't a topic that could be swept aside any longer.

"Yeah. I do. Except she's not my wife. I think you know that."

"Do I? There's still so much I don't know about you. Who's to say that she wasn't telling the truth?"

"First of all, you know me. Better than anyone else, Joss. Secondly, she wasn't. And if I were married, I wouldn't be here with you tonight."

"Or breaking into my house whenever you felt like it?"

"Not…not whenever I felt like it. I'm not _that_ bad."

She scoffed.

"Am I?"

She sighed, and shifted in his arms, turning so that she could look into his eyes. "Just why do you break in, John?"

She expected him to hedge at an answer, but he didn't. He didn't hesitate. "Because, when I'm in your home, when I'm with you, I _feel_ at home." He didn't flinch, he didn't bat an eyelash, and his voice was steady and strong. "And I haven't felt that way…not since…"

"Since Jessica."

He trailed his finger over one of her eyebrows and nodded.

"And how does that go over with-"

"With Zoe?"

She nodded.

"Without me saying it, I think that Zoe knows how I feel about you. Probably before I did. Which would explain why she introduced herself as my wife the first time you two met. I've been able to compartmentalize what I have with you and keep it separate from what I had with her."

"Which is what?"

"A mutual understanding between two single adults."

John was a grown man. She knew he had needs. Needs that needed to be taken care of and she couldn't blame him for finding someone willing to do just that. He said that it'd been evident that he'd felt something for her. It'd been apparent enough for Zoe to feel threatened by it. Twice. Before she or John had even acknowledged it. Still the pang of jealousy she'd felt earlier reared its head, and she wondered if things were over between them.

"Well, you're _still_ a single adult; you're free to make your own decisions."

"Yet, here I am."

He stroked her face and the gentle touch threatened to eat away at the doubts she was suddenly having. He was saying that he made his choice to be here, with _her_, not with any other woman, despite their not being committed to each other.

"I don't know what got into me…asking you out. This probably isn't a good idea."

"So many things could go wrong." He nodded his head in agreement, but the hand on her face still moved ever so softly.

"We definitely shouldn't do this."

"But we're going to." He looked sure of his statement. "We have to. Joss, you have way much more to lose than I do if we take this further. I know. And I feel guilty about the consequences of us sharing a life or even one day together. But even if I only have one more day left on this earth, I want to share that one day with you. And no one else."

She decided then that if he could be brave and open, so could she. Their lives, what they did, was dangerous, crazy. Death could come looking for them both at any minute. But she wanted him in her life and not just as her friend anymore. Wasn't that the reason she asked him out anyway?

"So…"

"So forget about Zoe," he said, pulling her onto his lap. She looked down at him, running her fingers over the gray at his temples, tracing her finger down the bridge of his nose. "It's just you and me, now."

"You know, the date was supposed to end with you planting a really good wet one on me."

"You beat me to it in the closet," he said, smiling.

"No. That was just a taste earlier," she said, tracing her finger over his mouth. Straddling his thighs, she felt his hands on her butt pulling her closer to him. His excitement was mounting, as was hers, and his shirt was a flimsy barrier between them. "I want to sample the real thing now."

"As you wish," he said, threading his fingers through her hair, and he tilted his head up to kiss her.

Despite her being on top, he was the one in control. He was in command, moving his hands over her back and across her thighs as his lips sucked at hers. They were soft, they were tender, and then they were so insistent she felt her stomach clench. His tongue moved over hers, sliding so nicely over it, darting in and out of her mouth in the most delicious way. It was impossible to feel so many things at once, she thought, and yet she was. The hardness between his legs, his hands on her back, fingers moving over her butt, and his mouth in a kiss that was so strong it curled her toes.

He tore his mouth away to kiss her neck, his mouth warm and moist at her throat. She moaned softly as his tongue slid over her décolletage, so dangerously close to her breasts. His hands moved underneath his shirt, and the soft sound of her name in his mouth coupled with his fingers on her skin was agony. Blissful agony. She fisted her hand in his shirt, an attempt to hold on, get a grip. She felt like she was losing herself, feeling so giddy and out of control. She was tempted, so tempted to let him take more. She wanted him, badly, but she knew it was too soon. So did he. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips once more, and looked into her eyes. She could see her own desire reflected in those cloudy blue depths. He was fighting for control as well.

"I want to make love to you, Joss. I want you so much. In my bed, on this couch, over and over again."

His voice was ragged, heavy with desire, and though she'd resolved that they couldn't, not just yet, it was almost enough to make her change her mind. He kissed her neck, and she ran her hands across his shoulders.

"It's too soon," he said quietly against her lips. "And I don't want either of us to have any regrets after I make love to you."

He took a deep breath, stilling his hands at her waist, and the look on his face made her heart turn over. He wanted to take things slow. He wanted things to be just right, and she appreciated that so much. Hadn't even known she'd needed him to do it. After his confession about his '_mutual_ _understanding_' with Zoe Morgan, it felt good to know that she wasn't just another way for him to slake his lust. He wanted more. She hugged him tightly, leaning into his chest.

"I want you too, John." He groaned as she trailed light kisses on his neck. She was sure it wasn't aiding his restraint in the least. But he'd just been so sweet in his declaration, she couldn't help it. "Thank you…for waiting."

"You're welcome," he said. "And if we're going to follow through with waiting, we need to get back to the first part of the date and get to know each other better."

_And_ she needed to get off his lap. His heart was still beating fast against her palm on his chest. "I think that's a good idea."

"After I finish with your dress."

* * *

When Reese finally loaded Carter's dress into the dryer, stain free and smelling like normal, she was completely awestruck and couldn't hide her disbelief. Or her glee.

"I told you I'd take care of it. Didn't I tell you to trust me?"

"I'm glad I did. I was ready to write it off."

"It should be dry in another half hour or so. And good as new."

She nodded her head, suppressing a yawn. "It's late."

"Yeah it is," he said. It was past one in the morning. They were both tired, sleepy.

"I should get home."

"Where are you going dressed like that?" He knew she'd protest, but he wanted her to stay. The warmth he felt whenever he spent time with her at her house, she'd brought it here. He wanted to stay cocooned in that, for just a little bit longer. "You'll stay here."

"And now this do over...turns into a sleep over."

He nodded. It was as simple as that.

He switched off all the lights in the loft, and what was left was the soft light that came in from the city outside. He led her to the bed where she sat watching him as he undressed before her. She drew her legs underneath her as he unbuttoned his shirt, took off his pants and socks. When she unraveled the sheets and his blanket, he couldn't help thinking that he wished they could go to bed together like this every night. She looked just as comfortable in his space as he was in hers. He got in beside her under the covers and drew her close to his chest.

"We're still taking this slow, Joss. So try to keep your hands to yourself in the middle of the night, please." Her head lay right over his heart, and she felt so warm, cozy, and so damn soft in his arms with her leg thrown over him.

"I'll behave if you do," she said. Her soft chuckle was tinged with sleep. "Why don't you tell me a bedtime story?"

"You want something to put you to sleep?"

"Not that," she said, pinching him.

"Well let me tell you about an awkward gangly kid in high school who had terrible luck with the girls but excelled at basketball."

"No talk about any more of your exes. We've done enough of that for one night. One word and I'll tell you about my wedding night with Paul."

He grinned softly, running his hand along her arm. "Well before we talk about this kid, I have a little secret to tell you."

She raised her head, looking at him in the dark. "What secret?"

"If you hadn't asked me out, eventually I would have asked you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "I've wanted this - me and you I mean - for a while. I'm glad you found the courage."

"We both did, John. We both did."

* * *

Carter got up first. It was early, just before 7am, and she woke up wrapped in John's arms. They were spooning. How that happened she didn't know. She'd fallen asleep with her head on his chest, and she guessed sometime during the night they must have shifted. She looked at the strong arms covering hers, the contrast of his pale skin to her brown. She ran her hand over his arms lightly and he fidgeted behind her, moving just a little closer.

She opened her eyes wide for a second, the feel of morning wood at her back, and smiled. He'd been a true gentleman all night, not once taking advantage of her even though she'd probably have let him. He was good at keeping his promises, good at taking care of people. It was just who he was. He wasn't without his shortcomings or mistakes, but he was a good person, a good man. She wanted nothing more than to take care of him in return.

She slipped out of his embrace, sure that he would wake up, but he didn't move surprisingly. She rummaged through his bathroom and linen closet, searching for a towel to take a shower and an extra toothbrush. After freshening up in the bathroom, she padded over to the kitchen to make breakfast. She tried to make as little noise as possible, not wanting to disturb him. In his line of work she knew sleeping in for him was a luxury he probably didn't indulge in often. She wanted to give him that, this morning at least.

* * *

Reese woke up, stretching his arms out on the bed beside him and came up empty. Carter was gone, but as he sat upright in bed, he saw her poke her head out of the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said. She was fresh faced and smiling.

"Good morning," he replied. His day was already made, already perfect. She was still here, and last night wasn't a dream.

"Made you an omelette. A loaded one. And coffee."

She disappeared back into the kitchen, and he headed to the bathroom, to get rid of his _morning wood_ and to wash up. She was plating his omelette and some toast, looking entirely too domestic. He couldn't help himself from boxing her in at the counter and kissing the back of her neck. She squealed.

"Scruff!" she said.

"Good morning," he said again, pulling her close. She turned around, slipping her arms about his waist and she stood on her toes, kissing him.

"Good morning," she said. He was falling again, hard. And he couldn't, didn't, want to help it. One look at her brown eyes in the light of day, and he knew he was gone. She'd taken a chance to ask him out, to initiate this exploration of what could happen between them. Maybe it was too soon, but he didn't care. He wanted to take a chance too.

"I want to do this again," he said.

"Find me in your kitchen making you breakfast?" she joked.

"Well that, too. But…I want to be with you, go to sleep with you, wake up with you next to me. I want to do all of _this_ again."

She bent her head, just as he did when she first asked him out, and he wondered if now she would make fun of him. But she nodded her head, looking up at him and he was filled with hope.

"So do I John."

He released a sigh at her quiet declaration, lifted her up and spun her around. He kissed her hard, long, and passionately. She was out of breath soon, and pried her mouth from his, trying to find air. Her swollen lips begged to be taken again, but when he went to kiss her once more, she put a finger to his mouth.

"_Slowly_, John." She gazed at him with hooded eyelids.

He laughed and lowered her to the ground, and she stumbled toward him. "_Slowly_," he repeated, steadying her.

They walked to the dining table together and laughter rumbled in his chest. She poured him some coffee and orange juice and they started to eat.

"_Slowly_," he reminded himself again, smiling as he took a bite of his toast.

~ THE END


End file.
